


Erik's Awakening

by eboi



Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, SoSValenslimes, act 3 doesn't exist, except one particular major character death never occurs, set after act 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29439060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eboi/pseuds/eboi
Summary: Erik falls in love with the Luminary almost as soon as he meets him. He tells no one, and after the defeat of Mordegon moves back to Heliodor with the vow he will bring his stupid infatuation to the grave.That is until he fails to correct an old pal when he assumes the two are together.Angst, fake dating, and chaos ensue.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 28
Collections: Valenslimes Day 2021





	Erik's Awakening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fav_littleleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fav_littleleaf/gifts).



> So here she is! My Valenslime’s gift to @fav_littleleaf! I am so sorry in advance for the OMC btw - he was originally intended to be a bit mean, and I didn't want to bash any of the real characters just for the sake of a plot device. I tried to include as many of your suggestions as possible, and the whole fic is a bit of a mess as a result, but I like to think it is a lovable mess. I hope you enjoy!

Erik can’t remember what he used to think about before his mind was full of Eleven. Surely he must have thought of something. Surely he didn’t just gaze at the walls and the floors and the ceilings with nothing but empty air between his ears. 

He recalls feeling almost grounded - something inconceivable to him since that fateful day in the damp cell beneath Heliodor. Even with the guilt of what happened to Mia forever battering his soul, he thinks he used to live in the moment a bit more, second guess himself a bit less. He wasn’t always so horribly aware of his every word and action and mannerism. He didn’t always squeeze his eyes shut every night, pretending to himself that when he woke Eleven would be there beside him, just so he could fall asleep. He hasn’t always prayed for courage to forget, courage to remember, courage to stop contradicting himself like Yggdrasil’s favorite goddamned fool. 

All his thoughts are of Eleven. He dissects every conversation they shared, pulling them apart and stitching them back together so often he can no longer distinguish between how they had really gone and how he wished they had gone. 

Everyday he begs himself to find the courage to race to Cobblestone and confess all his secrets to the Luminary. Everyday he begs himself to find the self restraint _not_ to do just that. Everyday he wishes Mordegon was still alive, just so he could be brought back to those months of striving and fighting and struggling together. Everyday he is glad those months are over, because if nothing else and if only a little, the distance from Eleven dulls the pain in his chest.

The moment Eleven had taken his hand and time seemed to still, when Erik had pulled him onto the horse and they raced for their lives, Erik knew. He knew as soon as his heart twisted and snapped and squeezed and stayed that way, each beat forever thumping too hard and too loud. 

He was in love.

He had thought he would get used to it. He had thought that one day the knowledge of his love would quieten to something he could move to the back of his mind, and life would get easier to bear.

Yggdrasil, was he wrong. 

The feeling didn’t shrink, far from it. Instead it grew and grew until Erik felt like doubling over at any given moment with the ever increasing pressure in his chest. Everyday it was something else. Eleven could be doing anything, absolutely anything at all, and Erik would be newly enamored. He could be making a pair of anti-freeze earrings, or sharpening his sword, or pushing his stupidly glossy hair away from his stupidly beautiful face, and Erik would have to look away for fear he would burst. 

It took everything in him after that first journey on the Salty Stallion not to stride up to Sylv and Dave and demand to know how they do it. Even today he has to stop himself from cornering them in some suitably dodgy Gondolian side street and not letting them go until they tell him how they go on with their lives while carrying all these _stupid emotions_ , walking around like nothing is amiss. How do they manage to live away from each other for such long periods as if it is nothing? And how, when reunited, do they not feel all that emotion crashing over them like a big wave, like they will never again know what it is to have air in their lungs and feet on dry land?

Which is exactly how he is feeling right now, standing at Eleven’s door. About to see his face for the first time in four months.

* * *

  
  
  


It’s his own fault, really. 

After the party had said their goodbyes and parted ways, Erik had headed back to Heliodor. He had resolved to put his head down and find a _respectable_ job - whatever the hell that’s meant to mean - both to set some sort of positive example for Mia, and to distract himself from his ridiculous infatuation.

The first thing he did was seek out his old pal Finbar, head of the Thief’s Guild. Not to find work as a thief, Yggdrasil no, he was very much determined to turn over a new leaf. But old habits die hard, and Finbar was renowned for keeping an ear to the ground, so to speak. If anyone knew of a decent establishment hiring in Heliodor, it would be him.

He had found him in one of his usual haunts, the invite only lounge in the back room at Ruby’s. The reunion had gone well - Finbar’s irritating penchant for nicknames aside - all except for one silly little detail. Something so small that Erik had nearly forgotten all about it, and assumed Finbar had to. A misunderstanding he left uncorrected, simply because it was easier than explaining the truth. 

But when ten months later he receives a wedding invitation addressed to _Tricky Ricky and his Special Luminary_ , it all comes flooding back. 

Finbar thinks they are involved - in the _Yggdasilian sense -_ and now they have a wedding to attend.

* * *

  
  
  


‘So let me get this straight.’ Eleven puts down his cup of tea and picks up the invitation to scan for himself. ‘You want me to pose as your…’ he pauses and raises an eyebrow, ‘ _partner in crime_ , for an old colleague’s wedding. In Heliodor. Tomorrow.’ 

Erik can do nothing but try not to choke on his own tea.

Eleven leans back on his chair, and smirks at him. ‘Alright there, Tricky Ricky?’

Amber would kill him for that. Probably. Erik has never stuck around long enough to know her well enough. But probably. He knows from what little he has gleaned that she is a formidable woman. Very likely to disapprove of chair leaning and smirks.

Erik half wishes she would. If not, maybe he will kill Eleven himself. Seeing him lean and smirk at him like that is certainly too much for a Thursday evening. Too much for any evening of the week really. Yggdrasil, he can feel his ears burning already. Fuck. 

This has been a terrible idea. Eleven can probably see right through him. He has never fallen for his fake bravado before. Not that it was always fake. Just around Eleven. And he can always tell, Yggdrasildammit. He’s probably enjoying Erik’s desperation, laughing at his childish story and stupid inability to say no to Finbar.

Stupid Finbar. 

‘Collegue is the wrong word,’ he says, finally recovering enough to look at Eleven again. ‘More like... mentor. The man taught me the tricks of the trade, took me under his wing when I first arrived at Heliodor. He was the one who introduced me to Derk, actually.’

‘Huh.’ Something seems to wash over Eleven’s face at the mention of Derk. Respect perhaps? Nostalgia for the good old days? 

‘So, what do you say? A small favour for your favourite thief?’

The unplaceable look on Eleven’s face fades as fast as it arrived, and he meets Erik’s gaze. 

‘Happy to be of service.’

* * *

  
  
  


‘Slick Rick! How’ve you been, boy! Long time, no see, long time, no see! And this must be the infamous Luminary!’

‘Nice to meet you, Finbar. But please, call me Eleven. Slick Rick here has told me so much about you!’

‘All good things, I hope?’ The guild master turns to Erik and gives him a wink.

Still pouting at the _Slick Rick_ comments, it takes Eleven’s sharp elbow in the stomach to make him reply.

‘Oh, You know me, Fin - can never have a bad word to say about my friends.’

‘Still slick as always, I see. Now, sit down, sit down - you too Eleven - tell me Erik, how are you getting on in the restaurant trade?’

Erik sits on the edge of the small sofa, and opens his mouth to reply when Finbar jumps in again.

‘Ah, now, there’s no need to look like strangers for my sake. Sure, I was young and in love once too! I like to think I still am, today being the day I tie the knot and all that.’ He gestures for Erik and Eleven to move closer together, then starts talking away again, asking questions about their journey and filling them in on the recent comings and goings in the thief business.

Erik tries his best not to look at Eleven. Tries his best to ignore the leg touching against his own as the voice he loves so much comments on the recent influx of Hammerhoods in the region. Tries his best to ignore his stomach twisting and his heart pounding, to stop his hands grabbing the nearest cushion to hold his chest like a shield. 

After a few minutes, Eleven stands suddenly. Erik looks up to him rushing to the window, shouting at two blond heads on the street below.

‘Veronica! Serena! Come over here!’

Oh no. Oh no. 

They bound up the stairs - well, Veronica bounds, Serena walks - and burst into the room. After the obligatory hugs, Erik and Eleven return to their sofa, the twins leaning against the wall.

‘What are you two doing in town?’ he asks, silently begging them not to notice his and Eleven’s touching knees. 

Of course, Veronica is far too shrewd for that. Ignoring his question entirely, she eyes them closely for a moment, then grins and claps her hands.

‘Oh, thank goodness! You finally got together! And about time too - having to watch Erik make puppy eyes at El during our adventures was enough to make anyone barf!’

Oh no. _Oh no_.

Yggdrasil let her shut up let her shut up let her shut up

‘I can only imagine,’ Finbar says. 

Erik has the urge to punch something. 

‘Oh,you don’t know the half of it, Mr…’

‘Finbar,’ Finbar provides helpfully.

‘...Finbar. Everynight Erik here would sit by the fire and brood, stealing sweet glances at our lovely Ellie like his life depended on it. It was a nightmare! And every chance he got he’d start talking about how great Eleven was, how unfair it was that his hair was’ - Erik winces in anticipation of the bad impression he knows is coming - ‘“ _just so shiny!”_ Ugh, I should really be compensated for everything I had to put up with. Maybe with a glass of wine?’ She smiles at Finbar hopefully.

‘Veronica!’ Serena shakes her head in apology. ‘Please ignore my sister. I would say that she’s not usually this rude, but I’m afraid that’s not quite true.’ She shoots Veronica a glare.

‘‘Tis grand, child, sure anyone would be needing a few scoops after dealing with Earache Erik all day - once he starts a ‘natterin’, there’s no stoppin’ him. Tell ye what, how about you two pop to the reception tomorrow, and we’ll see if we can sort ye out with some orange juice or the likes.’

Veronica huffs, probably at the orange juice suggestion. Serena looks aghast. 

‘Oh goodness, we couldn’t possibly! Thank you very much for the offer, but we wouldn’t want to impose.’

While Serena and Finbar argue about why she and Veronica should or shouldn’t attend his wedding, Erik feels very tempted to look at Eleven. And to throw that cushion at Veronica. And to sink into the sofa and never return. But mostly to look at Eleven.

Is he disgusted? Is he horrified? Did he even take in what Veronica was saying?

Does he know?

* * *

  
  
  


‘I got you two a room here for the night.’ Finbar tosses Erik the key. ‘Girls, I’m afraid ye’re on yer own, but I can have a word with Ruby if ye like?’

‘Oh no, that’s quite alright - we’re staying with friends at the castle.’ Serena nudges Veronica towards the door and they leave with a bright ‘See you tomorrow!’

They had agreed to going to the wedding after all, Serena finally giving in to Finbar’s unrelenting insistence. Maybe Erik can catch them alone tomorrow morning and tell them that he and Eleven aren’t really dating, convince Veronica to stop sticking her foot in it? Though that would probably just make her worse.

Yggdrasil, this is a nightmare. 

‘C’mon’ he says finally, deciding he better get this sleeping arrangement situation over and done with before he chickens out. ‘Let’s catch some zs before Fin’s big day tomorrow.’ He slinks over towards the stairs, Eleven not far behind.

‘Night, lads!’ Finbar calls after them, just as the door shuts with a loud bang. 

Erik starts, and feels his ears go red. He’s meant to be a thief, Yggdrasildammit. Or at least an ex-thief. Ex-thieves don’t start at banging doors. 

‘There must be a draft,’ Eleven says from behind him, and Erik starts again. 

It is going to be a very long night. 

He eyes the bed in the centre of the room. It seems to eye him back, gleefulling anticipating his stupid impending doom. He and Eleven used to share a tent everynight not ten months ago - he is not going to let this stupid bed affect him. Though, thinking back, he was not exactly unaffected by the tent sharing. 

Fuck.

They get changed quickly and slip under the covers. Erik turns to blow out the candle.

‘Night, El,’ he whispers after a minute.

‘Night, Erik,’ the voice calls back.

* * *

  
  
  


He can’t sleep. Of course he can’t. How can he, when Eleven is beside him, so close yet entirely unreachable. 

He picks at the cotton sheet beneath him, then lies on his hands to silence them.

He just _wants_ so badly. He wants like when he was a child, wishing and wishing and wishning to have an adult who loved him and cared for him and didn’t always need him to be strong. 

And it would be so easy. All he has to do is reach out and close the space between them, to clutch onto Eleven’s shirt and never let go.

But he vowed never to tell Eleven about his love. Not when Eleven might hate him for it, might never want to look at him again, fight with him again, visit Mia with him again when it’s too hard to face her alone.

Or worse. He might return his love.

The only person who ever loved him before almost paid with her life.

He turns so he is lying on his back, and watches the ceiling. Time passes slowly, or maybe not at all. 

It isn’t until what is left of the day’s light fades, until he can see longer the peeling paint or tell where the walls begin and the ceiling ends, when a soft voice calls out to him.

‘Erik, you still awake?’ 

‘Mmm.’ 

A pause. 

Another. 

And then the question he has been dreading.

‘Is what Veronica said true?’

Erik squeezes his eyes shut. He can feel his throat burning. He should have gotten a glass of water before going to bed. Stupid. It’s too late now. His ears start to itch and he curses himself. He should have taken his earrings out earlier, he always forgets. _Stupid. Stupid Stupid Stupid._ He tries to slow his breathing, tries not to let the panic set in and bolt from the bed. He tries and tries and tries.

He tries until he can try nothing else but to be brave for once in his stupid life.

‘Mmm,’ he replies finally, so quiet Eleven probably can’t hear him. Half hoping he doesn’t.

But half hoping he does. 

Another minute and Eleven still doesn’t reply. He mustn’t have heard after all.

But then there is a hand around his waist, pulling him close.

And then Eleven’s breath is on his neck, warm and sweet and safe.

Neither say anything, but neither pull apart. 

And when they wake the following morning, they are still wrapped together, and Erik knows he is finally at home.

* * *

  
  
  


The wedding is lovely (or as lovely as a wedding can be when every second guest is a pick-pocket on the job). If he’s honest, Erik doesn’t remember most of it, too busy enjoying his hand in Eleven’s and the feeling of contentment he never knew himself capable of. 

Afterwards, when he walks with Eleven back to Cobblestone, he stays - respectable job in the restaurant trade be damned.

It takes them a while to figure out how they fit together. But when they do it feels right.

And Erik knows he is loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I had originally intended to write something completely different but ended up scrapping it just two days ago. I might return to it later on, so if you get a Valenslime's notification for a modern au Jade/Erik in July please don't be alarmed!


End file.
